


Plant Omens

by sunlitroses



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Background Apocalypse Shenanigans, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Gonna Lie This One Is A Little Odd, Plant Depression, Plant POV, Plant Suffering, Plant Trauma, Plant puns, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22470997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlitroses/pseuds/sunlitroses
Summary: In the Beginning, the plant had only a vague idea of what was occurring around it. Given that this was more of an idea than most plants were supposed to have, this could be deemed a miracle were it taking place in any other flat than the one in which the plant found itself. (Once it realized that finding itself was something it could do.)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens) (Platonic), Plant & Plant (Plant-onic)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 69





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Beta work done by the amazing Incredulous Anteater. All remaining mistakes are definitely my own, and there probably are some because of who I am as a person. I apologize in advance.
> 
> There was some incredible art created for this work by the wonderfully talented Art-RmLB and BabelGhoti, as part of the Good Omens Big Bang. Please do yourself a favor and go appreciate it as it deserves!
> 
> Art-RmLB: https://art-rmlb.tumblr.com/  
> BabelGhoti: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22465867

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant arrives in the room and begins to have thoughts about this. (And also in general.)

In the Beginning the plant had only a vague idea of what was occurring around it. There had been an even hazier Before, which was remembered only through great struggle, of a bright place with row upon row of other plants, a sea of green. There was no sense of a passage of time until there was a moving object, sinewy and long, moving the plant. Then the plant was Here, in the Now or the After, it wasn’t sure which, and beginning to notice what was around it. It felt a bit like waking up, which was confusing to the plant as it wasn’t entirely sure what waking up was, or sleep for that matter. It knew, however, that what it once had been was different to what it was now and that was quite enough for one plant to grapple with, consciousness-wise.

The Now was much smaller than the Before. There was still brightness, but a different quality. Warmer and glowier, the plant thought, although it wasn’t certain those were the right words for it. Fewer other plants surrounded it and they weren’t all in straight lines, but placed at different heights and on different surfaces. The pot the plant had been in had changed as well, as had the soil. Tentatively, the plant stretched a root away from the knot that had entwined back on itself in the close confines of the pot Before, out into the cool reaches of this new space. It tasted the soil and found that it was good.

-

Time passed and the plant began to grasp this concept of time and its passage. The light in the room moved, unlike the light from Before, and the When of light glowing full through the room was not the same as the When of softer, indirect light or of the times of no light. The plant studied the light, realized that studying was something it could do, and began to consider what else it could study. The other plants around it seemed an obvious choice.

“Ah, you’re awake,” boomed the third other plant that the plant had decided to study. It was a large plant, well away from the windows, with big green leaves and drooping pink blooms. “About time, too, you’ve taken ages longer than Diane over here and it came in two light-times after you.”

“I am sorry?” the plant spoke, then realized it had spoken and devoted a good bit of plant-thinking to how exactly that had occurred until it realized that the other plant was speaking again.

“Quite all right, I’m sure now that you’ve gotten the hang of it you will improve.” The other plant continued over the response the plant was still trying to formulate. “Now you will need a name. He gave you one name of course, but sometimes there are duplicates, so it’s best to have another. What name do you want?”

“A name?” The plant did not know what this was. “Who is he? What is this name he gave me?” Perhaps it was the new pot that was its name, or the soil. Both were very nice and the plant would like to know the he that had been so kind.

“You don’t know who He is?” The other plant was scornful. “The one who brought you here, who is in charge of all that exists. I can see that you aren’t going to be very bright. The name He gave you was Brugmansia arborea. I might as well pick a name for you, too.” The other plant grumbled.

“That is very kind,” the plant said vaguely, unsure if it was kind or not. What was a name?

“Of course it is,” the other plant puffed its leaves out. “I am Gav. You,” it hesitated a moment, “will be Malach.”

-

The plant, or Malach now it supposed, was still considering the idea of names when it noticed the plant next to him straighten all its stems and stand tall.

“He’s coming, He’s coming,” rustled through the plants and Malach watched as the plant nearest the window tucked a small leaf deep under its others, the large plant whose pot rested on the ground thrust all its branches towards the ceiling, and Gav puffed its blossoms outward until it looked like a blaze of pink.

Malach considered itself and wondered if there was something it should be doing.

“How’s it going today?” a sibilant voice intruded on its thoughts. “It better be going well, am I right?”

Malach couldn’t exactly see around the plants blocking its leaves on both sides, but the voice was coming from the part of the room away from the window and seemed attached to something that moved in a swaying motion, like how the tops of the thin ferns had moved when the window had been open and the breeze had fluttered through its leaves.

This figure, this not-plant, must be the He that was spoken of by the others and Malach wanted to know more. Why were they here, why were they chosen? What did He want of them? It wanted to know more right up until it heard that voice turn cold. Then it didn’t want to know anymore, but it was already too late for that.

-

The light had gone and the room was dark, but Malach’s leaves still shook and its roots clutched convulsively at its soil. Every time it thought that it was over, it would catch a glimpse again of the pot sitting enthroned on the pedestal in the middle of the room and the trembling would begin anew.

The pot was tapered, concentric circles expanding upwards to a graceful lip. The color was a soothing deep brown, like freshly turned soil after a wetting. It even still had bits of soil clinging on the rim and one bit had a leaf clinging to it, crookedly hanging over the edge. It was elegant. It was also empty.

He hadn’t even known that plant’s name. Maybe that was better. 


	2. A Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant begins to acclimatize to its existence and learns of the Other (Other than Him).

Malach didn’t make any efforts to get to know the other plants, but certain intimacies were inescapable when one shared the same narrow room. It did grow known for having a poor memory for names, however.

There was a persistent bit of gossip among the fronds that had come to its attention, shortly after the Incident of the Spotted Leaf. There was another being, similar to He, but not, who also visited the room upon occasion. One of the plants near the door had heard Him speak of another visit and the room was rustling with excitement.

Malach did not know why any visitor would be good news, but listened politely when the other plants spoke of it. This Other, it seemed, shed light as though the Other was a window itself and it was good light, light that would make any plant’s leaves fill up and make roots and stems strong. Also, according to the plant in the corner, the Other spoke words that were so nice and so kind that spots disappeared and blossoms burst into being. Not, the other plant hastened to point out, when Gav rustled its blooms, that any of the plants here would even develop spots on their leaves.

It wasn’t sure whether to believe in this Other’s goodness or not. The other plants believed in it though, so it seemed wrong not to wonder about the light that the Other would bring or the words that the Other would speak. So Malach wondered and listened as it checked each leaf three times a day to make sure that there were no spots or yellowness and that its stems grew straight as the edge of the shelf.

-

After the Time of Burning Light settled into the Time of Soft Light and was heading close to the Time of Barely Any Light, there was a great noise from beyond the room. The plants near the door spread their branches wide to try and see beyond the edges of the room to report back to the other plants.

“The Other is here,” squeaked the fern. It was far from the door, but was too excited to censor itself and spoke what all the plants of the room were thinking.

“You do not know that,” Gav rustled indignantly. “Do not lie to us,” it continued, “only the plants by the door may know if the Other is here and they will tell us when they have the vision. If they do not see the Other, then we will know by a visitation that we are meant to see the Other. You cannot,” it finished in triumph, “simply _guess_.”

Malach wondered what was wrong with guessing and how that was different than asking each other if the Other would visit soon. Gav told them at the beginning of every Time of Burning Light that they must act as though He or the Other would appear at any moment. It seemed that there must be a great difference between this and guessing, but it couldn’t see what that difference might be.

-

“You have done wonders as always, my dear boy,” a voice at the edge of the door, a voice precise and round and pleasant, rolled through the room. “I cannot imagine how your garden gets lovelier every time I see it, but it does.”

“It better,” came a familiar tone, blurred with throatiness and threat, and Malach felt every leaf stand on end.

“How pink that one is,” the soft voice continued. “Just like the macarons at that charming shop three streets over. You know the one. With the French name?”

“That’s more your area, angel.” The ‘s’ of ‘that’s’ stretched long through the rustle of leaves.

“Oh, we should visit there again soon and, oh my, this one’s new isn’t it?”

Suddenly, a figure appeared before Malach’s field of vision. Less angular than He and bright in all the places that He was dark. The Other, for this must be the Other, who else could it be, reached towards Malach and it froze except for the very tips of its leaves which continued to tremble independent of its body.

“How lovely,” the Other murmured as a fingertip touched the edge of a leaf. Through its whole self, Malach felt warmth spread from that leaf. A warmth that filled it down to the roots and relaxed its stems completely. Out on the edge of itself, in a spot that had been growing warm and achy of late, a surge ran through and to Malach’s astonishment a bloom burst into being. It didn’t know that it was a blooming sort of plant. It had always been just sort of green.

“Oh, what a beautiful flower! Look, Crowley, it matches my waistcoat.”

“Hm,” the voice of He drew near, but the warmth still running through Malach left it too dazed to care. “S’pose it does. Well then,” and Malach found itself leaf to face with He, “I guess it will just have to keep it up.” The face of He grinned and it felt a coldness begin again in the center of its stalk. “Won’t. You.”

Somehow, Malach knew that this was not a question.

-

When the Other had gone and the chatter among the plants in the wake of the visit had died down, including Gav’s pointed remarks about plants not growing too big for their pots just because someone had noticed them, Malach had time to contemplate its new bloom.

It was the Time of No Light, so it was difficult to see it, but it knew that the Other had been right. The color was a pale cream, almost white. The bloom hung from the edge of its stem, curving gracefully towards the ground. It gently moved the stem it lay on and felt the tug as the blossom swayed in the motion. Just this once and only to itself, it thought that maybe it was a lovely bloom and the warmth of the Other lit it up again.

Then it remembered the breath of He upon its leaves and the warmth faded again. Malach stilled the stem the bloom hung from, not wanting to chance that it would fall off at the slight motion. It told the bloom firmly to stay attached, then turned its attention from it to rest until the Time of the Burning Light came once more.


	3. Hobbies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant realizes that consciousness demands some sort of entertainment, discovers more of His power, and makes an – acquaintance?

Once Malach had accustomed itself to the ebb and flow of life in the room, a feeling of malaise began to spread through its roots. Was this all that the room was, this endless cycle of light and growth and He? Not, Malach hastened to assure itself, that there was anything wrong with that. It glanced around the room, the other plants were very content with the light and their blooms and greenery, so this must be how it was meant to be in the room.

Settling its leaves in order, Malach watched the other plants silently. Some were busily putting their leaves in a flattering order, others rustled quietly one to another talking of possible visits, angles of light, or of spots. Gav quickly flattened any talk of the last with quick motions of its branches. Malach supposed that those were all things that it could do, but none of them were things that it wanted to do, if it was being honest.

Letting the air ruffle its leaves, Malach turned its attention to the light. It was interesting, it thought, how the light changed from one Time to the next. It wondered what else was different about the light. Carefully, it stretched out one leaf into a ray of light and considered the light that entered into the leaf most carefully. If it tried, Malach found it could almost get a sense of the elements of that light. It was the Time of Soft Light and the light of that Time seemed almost creamy in consistency. The color was peach and it made the light taste deep and of the fruit that it could engender in a hard-working plant.

It was delicious, Malach decided with some surprise.

It wondered what it was like compared to the light at other Times.

-

It was the Time of Hazy Light, nearly the Time of No Light, and He had just paid a visit. Malach had attracted no attention whatsoever beyond the spritzing of its leaves, tidying of its soil, and the general threats that all of the plants received, so it was feeling rather content with itself. In reward, it meditated upon the almost acrid hints present in the light at this time until a new distraction presented itself. Something was different.

Sensing around the pot, Malach noticed that He had placed a little stick in the soil, towards the back, hidden by its leaves. He gingerly patted it with one leaf and noted that it was hard and slippery.

“Ah,” said the plant to the right, whose name Malach had been forced to remember was Shaliyah, “I see He has bestowed upon you the gift of a Miracle.”

“What’s a miracle?” Malach asked. It preferred not to socialize, but if it had to there could at least be answers involved.

“The most strange and slippery twig that is in your pot,” Shaliyah was happy to expound. It was always happy to expound, talk, hum, chuckle, and otherwise be heartily annoying when Malach was attempting to analyze a new light. “He called it Miracle of Grow when it was first bestowed to a plant. For many Times after the gift, your leaves will brighten and you will find yourself with great strength. You are blessed!”

“What is this?” Gav’s voice interrupted Shaliyah’s in its ever increasing volume. “What has happened?”

“Malach has been given a Twig of Miracles,” Shaliyah boomed, despite Malach waving a leaf to keep it to itself. “I was telling it of the wonders of the Miracle that it will experience.”

“Malach has been very blessed,” Gav agreed in a voice that sounded pleased, but still patronizing. “I’m sure that it will do its best to use this gift wisely and grow stronger. It must have impressed him and deserves to be commended.”

There was a general rustle among the plants at this announcement and several quiet remarks of congratulations. From the far off edge of the room, Malach thought it heard a sound like ‘wahoo,’ but it was quickly suppressed. It wished there was a way for it to sink through the bottom of its pot and down to the floor of the room, but that was probably not possible even if it did now have a Twig of Miracles to help.

-

One good thing about the Twig of Miracles was that it made Malach realize that it had not paid sufficient attention to its soil before. Soil was just a fact of existence, it had always thought – once it had thoughts – and now it knew better. The soil with the Miracle within it sent shivers right through its roots.

In contrast, the soil from before, which Malach dug a root deep beneath itself to find, tasted much thinner. Not a bad type of thin, it considered at length. A type of thin that led a plant to ponder on the intricacies of the mineral content and hints of a blend of soils in the corner of the pot near the light. The soil that had been Miracled was not nearly so subtle. It almost overwhelmed the roots and it took Malach quite a few Times to start parsing out the contests.

The Miracle had also given it plenty of energy, though, so it was no hardship to spend the Times in analyzation. Indeed, for the first two passes of the Time of No Light it had wondered if it was going to bounce right out of its pot. Perhaps Shaliyah always had a Twig of Miracles, as that would explain its energy. And volume.

In any case, studying soil made a nice addition to its study of light, especially during the Times of No Light.

-

It was during a Time of Glowing Light (today with an extra tinge of warmth that heightened the fullness of the feeling on the leaves and carried tones like the more aromatic of the herbs) and Malach was just turning its attention to cataloguing which of the herbs it had met that the air was most like when it felt a strange brush against an outermost leaf. Hurriedly it called its attention back to itself. Before it could investigate, however, Gav’s voice boomed throughout the room.

“Shedim? You are reported as not being in position. Where are you? Why do you disturb the order that He has placed us in?”

There was a great rustling in the corner far from Malach and it observed with interest that the plants seemed to be tracing something with their branches and there was a great flurry of talk. It wondered what the commotion was all about and turned towards Shaliyah to ask, only to find that it was deep in conversation with the tips of a plant that sat below them on the floor.

“I wonder what a Shedim is?” Malach mused quietly to itself.

“Um, that would be me,” an equally quiet voice replied.

Malach almost levitated out of its pot. It had forgotten about the brush against its leaves and looked around now, a bit wildly, to spy a long curl of vine hidden wedged behind it.

“Hey,” the tip of the vine waved at Malach in a sort of spasmodic twitch, then waved a few more times lethargically as though trying to prove that this was its intention all along. “I’m Shedim.”

“Ah, Malach,” it replied automatically. “What are you doing over here?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered,” Shedim propped itself up on the edge of Malach’s pot, “what another part of the room looked like?”

“Of course not,” Malach responded, then wondered if considering the taste of the light in the corner counted. “Of course not,” it repeated in a more emphatic whisper, “we were put in these spots for a reason. Our pots are meant to be here as they are.”

“Hm,” Shedim hummed for a moment. “I wonder why.”

Malach had never met another plant who wondered things. It wasn’t sure that this was a good thing to be wondering, though.

“Maybe you can sneak back,” it suggested. “They might believe that you were just resting. There does seem to be a lot of you doesn’t there?” Malach looked at the long stretch of vine and couldn’t quite conceive of the length Shedim must encompass. How did it feed all of that stem? What was it like to be so far from its soil?

“Probably not,” Shedim admitted. “I do this a lot. But it’s worth a try.” It paused. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Malach asked. It hadn’t done anything, it didn’t think.

“Not yelling, mostly,” Shedim made a sinuous, nonchalant movement, then began to retreat again around the edge of the room.

Malach watched until it was out of view of the longest of its stems.


	4. Disturbances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant must cope with His agitation, the increased trembling needed thereby, and its new acquaintance’s peculiarities.

“And if you even think about drooping, the tiniest bit, you’ll wish that all that awaited you was a shredding,” His voice dipped down to a menacing growl. Malach struggled to keep standing straight and tall. Its preference would have been to attempt blending into the woodwork of the shelf.

His threats through this particular Time of Waning Light had been vicious, lengthy, and extremely detailed. The little fern in the corner was only making it through because the flowering bush to its left was propping it upright. Even Gav seemed to experience a bit of faintness when the nail file came into play.

“Meeting of utmost importance,” He said in a high-pitched voice, nonsensically, as He spritzed Malach’s side of the room with prejudice. “Drop all of your other tasks, Crowley, and meet us at this extremely unfashionable and out-of-the way cemetery so that we can give you our latest horrible idea of something that might have worked five centuries ago. Not like,” His voice dropped down to its natural register, “I didn’t spend the whole day getting into that telecom building and arranging that tie-up. Well, half a day at least. Well, an hour, but it took a lot of thinking through and I had to meet up with the rats.” He slammed the spritzing bottle down with vim and stomped towards the door. Right before Malach was about to exhale oxygen in relief, He spun back around at the door, “And don’t you forget it!”

-

“Well, that was dramatic,” a voice piped up quietly from behind Malach’s pot.

The light had faded into the very beginnings of the Time of No Light, so Malach didn’t start or wonder at the voice. Over the long passages of times, it had begun to grow accustomed to Shedim appearing in the dark and now felt ever so slightly adrift if the other plant didn’t pay a visit every seven periods of darkness or so.

“Gav said that we must have done something wrong, for Him to be so angered with us,” Malach offered. Shedim never seemed too interested in what Gav said, but its words couldn’t be ignored. It was one of the first and knew more of His teachings then all of them.

“Uk,” Shedim hummed from its leaves. “I don’t know, He didn’t seem angry with us, exactly.”

Malach turned most of its stems to stare at Shedim in silence.

“Okay, yeah, the threats were aimed at us, but He didn’t seem angry like that time when Ba’al got that fungus.”

Malach shivered. “Yes, that was different. But maybe this is meant to be a warning?”

“Makes you wonder what it’s a warning for, then, doesn’t it?”

Malach didn’t want to wonder about that.

“I’m surprised you came over tonight,” it said instead. “I thought that you were trying to map where that one bright spot in the Outside moved.”

“I am, but tonight the Large Round Light is out and that makes it even harder to find the bright spots. The Glowing Lights of Darkness near the ground don’t make it too easy, either.” Shedim was very easily distractible on this point. Malach settled in to listen to tonight’s dissertation on Things Outside the Room, idly tasting the hint of light that Shedim assured it came from the Large Round Light.

-

“Do you think He’s in a mood again?” The voice startled Malach and its stems waved frantically for a moment before it identified the voice behind it’s pot.

“What are you doing over here?” Malach hissed. “He is coming. You know we have to be in our proper places!”

“Relax, worry-bloom. I can make it back quick as anything. Besides, why does it matter where we are?” Shedim curled its tip under the rest of its stem, as though settling in for a long talk.

“It must matter because He says that it does,” Malach strained its farthest reaching branch for any sign of an approach. “Do you want to disappear to the Room of Loud Noises?” Malach remembered that long ago time when He had glided back into the room and set the empty pot down in the center with an echoing thud. There had been others since that first, though not many, they all tried so hard, but this was the one that had haunted Malach during the Times of No Light. 

“What do you think really happens there?” was Shedim’s only answer.

“Well, something horrible, clearly,” Malach huffed. It had learned not to be too curious about what He did, why hadn’t Shedim? “Oh, would you please go back to your place? He is getting closer.”

“Sure, sure, don’t get your roots in a knot,” Shedim mumbled as its stem started to slither away.

A bare few moments of light later, and He entered the room, accompianied by the Other. Malach twisted its roots in the soil. Had Shedim made it back?

“I don’t see why you answered the advertisement for a gardener. They were also looking for a butler, y’know. Probably thought they couldn’t live in England without one.” He seemed calmer than His earlier tirade, striding into the room and immediately beginning to settle strange, black devices about the room.

“Ordering a household around would be so tiresome. Not to mention they have to dress so drably. All that black. Oh, no offense, dear. Besides how hard can plants be, all they need is love and oh, some weeding, I suppose.” The Other drifted aimlessly in His wake, stroking the tip of one finger over plants in passing.

“Plants do not need love, angel. What they need is water, sunlight, a proper balance of nutrients, and a healthy dose of fear about any Disappointing Behavior.” The last was said with a particularly vehement hiss at the fern near the window who had a regrettable habit of drooping. He passed Shedim’s spot near the window without pause and Malach felt its roots loosen momentarily.

“Of course, my dear boy,” Malach found the Other close by it as the words were pronounced and a soft finger trailed over its bloom. Energy coursed through it and the bloom attached itself more firmly to its stem.

“Hck,” He didn’t seem pleased with the answer and Malach trembled for the Other. “There, that should do it.”

“Do what?” the Other poked at one of the black devices.

“Keep the plants watered when I can’t make it back,” He shrugged and made an indiscernible motion. “Gotta put together an outfit for my ‘interview.’ S’pose I should take care of the rest of the throng as well. Bout of flu? Tube strike? Oo, a hurricane would be classic.” His voice trailed off around the corner of the door.

-

“What do you s’pose these are?” The tip of Shedim’s vine trailed behind Malach’s pot as it poked at one of the black things.

“Gav said that they are clearly Mystical Devices, whose purpose shall be unfolded in the fullness of His time,” Malach dutifully recited.

“Yeah,” Shedim agreed with a notable lack of enthusiasm. “But what do you think they actually do?”

“Well,” Malach hesitated and made itself still quieter, “well, if we’re just speculating between ourselves.”

“Who am I gonna tell, bloomy?” Shedim coiled itself around the base of Malach’s trunk. “Shaliyah, assuming I could get a word in edgewise? Have a nice gossip with Gav? Give the ferns leaf palpitations?”

“Yes, fine, you’ve made your point,” Malach cut it off testily. “As I was saying, if we’re just speculating, I did hear Him say something about water. So, it might be some Mystical Device for water. I don’t know why He would need a Mystical Device, however. He has the Dispenser of Refreshment for that.”

“Huh,” Shedim uncoiled itself to poke at the black object again. “I wonder where the water comes out.”

“Careful,” Malach hissed. “That is a Mystical Device. What if it cuts off bits of you?”

“Well, then we’d know it wasn’t meant for water.”

“You are impossible.”


	5. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant considers existence without Him and that its acquaintance has a death wish – two thoughts which begin to run on the same track once He returns.

It had been some interesting times, Malach considered, as it turned leaves lazily under the fierce light of this Time of Blazing Light. After the installation of the Mystical Water devices, He had ceased to show up in the room with as great a frequency. Now, times upon times could pass without His presence. No new plants had been added to the room since, either, and few had gone to the Room of Loud Noises.

After an initial period of questions and condemnations trying to find out what the plants could have done wrong, Gav had settled into a daily admonition that this was a test. The plants of the room were being tested to see if their devotion and freedom from Spots would continue without His presence. Only plants worthy of this room, Gav tended to conclude, would maintain their vigilance and they would be rewarded.

Malach found it relaxing.

No daily inspections or constant low soundings from the space beyond the room that might herald His arrival. Malach had lost blooms during these times, but always managed to grow another before He came and that seemed sufficient to remain in His grace. The water from the Mystical Devices seemed somehow more energizing than the water had from the Dispenser of Refreshment, and Malach had long uninterrupted times to consider the water and the soil and the light. And, of course, there was always Shedim.

Although Shedim was becoming something of a worry.

-

“And then, oh you’ll like this,” Shedim broke into its own story, “it’s so interesting. Then, the bright spot fell out of the sky.”

“But how did it fall?” Malach was caught up in the tale of Shedim’s observations of the last Time of No Light despite itself. It wasn’t really supposed to be over near Malach, it was fully light in the room, the plants were active, and He could appear at any moment. Shedim had been popping over more frequently lately, heedless of the times, claiming that He came so rarely now that it didn’t matter where a plant sat and that it was quick enough to get back to its spot, anyway. Malach wasn’t sure about either of those arguments and tried to dissuade the light-time visits as much as possible. “Lights can’t fall, they move, but they don’t fall.”

“This one did,” Shedim’s vine waved wildly in excitement, illustrating as it spoke, “It fell down like this, with this great vine of light stretching out behind it. Then the light disappeared.”

“Where could it have gone?” Malach wondered aloud.

“I was thinking,” Shedim started, but never got to finish the thought as a heavy thud rang through the room.

“He’s back,” Malach’s leaves quivered. “Quick, get back to your place.”

“He won’t come in here first thing,” Shedim scoffed. “He never does. I’ve got plenty of time.”

“Shedim, please,” Malach began, but cut itself off as sounds approached the room. “Now!”

Quickly, Shedim curled its length towards itself and began to wind along the shelf. Malach tracked it’s progress until it was rounded the first corner of the room, then lost it in the other greenery.

“Let’s see what’s happened while I’ve been gone, eh?” a quiet hiss in the doorway froze its roots in place.

-

“Do you really think we should have just left like that?” a fretful voice called out from behind where He stood in the dorrway. He turned away from the plants.

Malach’s roots loosened in relief. Whatever the cause of the interruption, it was grateful for it.

“Not like the boy needs tutors when he’s headed off to Eton. What were we going to do, follow along?” He made a noise like the large moving things outside the room sometimes did when they stopped moving. “Bad enough you switched from gardener to tutor. Let him go off and be a normal boy, isn’t that what we’ve been working for?”

“I suppose,” the Other appeared in the doorway as well. “And of course I became his tutor. How else were we going to balance his education when he couldn’t spend half his day in the garden anymore?”

“You left out all the interesting bits,” He complained, beginning to move through the room, eyeing the plants suspiciously.

“You’re not still on about the syphilis are you? A completely unnecessary addition to the real moral of the story, I might point out.”

Malach lost the thread of the words it mostly didn’t understand as He came to Shedim’s corner.

“Hmph,” He remarked and Malach’s leaves froze. “You. You’re looking disorderly. Trying to grow where you’re not supposed to be? You know what the limits are, unless you want a drastic pruning.” His fingers snipped through the air like shears.

He moved on, but Malach stayed frozen, long after the voices drifted off into the space past the room.

-

“You can’t be here!” Malach whispered frantically at the first touch of Shedim’s vine to its pot.

“What? Why not?” the plant sounded almost hurt.

“There’s still light out, He’s still nearby somewhere, he’s already warned you _twice_ now,” reason spilled out into the pale light lingering between times.

“Look, I didn’t have His new schedule down before, but I’ve got it now I’m sure. It’ll be fine,” Shedim twitched its tip dismissively. “So, did you try the light just at the beginning of the Time of First Light?”

“It will not be fine,” Malach hissed. “You can’t know that. You need to go back to your spot until the Time of No Light when it’s safe.”

“Don’t be such a worry-bloom,” Shedim shrugged up the admonition and looped around Malach’s trunk. “See.”

Malach did not find out what it was supposed to see because a plant can only take so much stress before it has to find an outlet. A bloom, some roots, a new shoot – or an angry tirade. “No, I will not see. You might be as, as loose-rooted as you like, but I’m not. Just because some plant is bored and wants to cause a little trouble doesn’t mean that it’s safe or right. He put us where we’re meant to be for a reason, and that can’t just be undone because some plant thinks it has a better idea. We’re just plants, we aren’t meant to wonder about why He did things or second-guess them! Stop thinking that we’re important, or special, or meant to be anything. We’re not.”

“You don’t really believe that, Malach,” Shedim said quietly after a beat of silence.

“Yes, I do,” it replied, in that moment feeling like it meant every word to the tip of its roots. “And if you don’t believe me than I don’t think you should come over here anymore. You’ll make Him mad, Shedim.”

“It that’s what you want, then I won’t,” Shedim hissed, coiling its vine back away from Malach.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Shedim wavered indecisively for a moment before slowly and regally, and not at all sulkily, beginning to pull itself back towards its corner.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”


	6. Reaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant denies that it cared about its acquaintance, is righteously furious that its acquaintance is basically an idiot, considers that perhaps its acquaintance is really just hiding over in the corner, and finally decides that pot maintenance is highly overrated.

Perhaps He had just decided to scare them all a little, Malach considered, as it sunk deep into its pot. Its every leaf was turned towards the exit from the room that led to the Place of Loud Noises from whence plants did not return, only their pots, to stand barren upon the pedestal in the middle of the room. There had not been any such noise yet, no sounds of leaf and branch and root being torn to pieces.

Any moment now, He might walk back in, carelessly holding onto Shedim’s pot with one hand, and swing it back to land with a surprisingly soft thud onto a shelf. Maybe it would even be a closer shelf. That could be the real punishment, being further from the window. Shedim would hate that, but if it was close enough, Malach could talk to it instead and tell it all about the light that it had missed when He had taken Shedim away for this extended bit of an object lesson.

Malach tried to decide on exactly where would be a good place for Shedim to be relocated. It would need a lot of space for the amount of stem that Shedim tended to snake everywhere. There was a spot to Malach’s other side. It wouldn’t mind scooting its pot over a little closer to Shaliyah to give Shedim a space to rest its leaves, so to speak.

Distantly, it noted that conversation had begun to resume between the plants. Hushed and quick, but growing in number. Gav inclined its blooms gravely to the showy straight stalk of plant next to it and they murmured seriously. Malach kept its attention on the doorway.

-

The light waned and shadows began to gather at the crooks of the shelves and under the spread of the wide-leafed plants arcing branches. Malach’s branches were tired from the strain of stretching them towards the door. Why should it even bother? Clearly wherever Shedim had gone, it had decided that it was a better place. Maybe it had gone to another room where it could sit by the window all by itself and wouldn’t have to listen to Gav lecturing it to get back to its spot, or Malach telling it about soil composition, or the ferns gossiping about which plant would get a Miracle next.

That was just fine, Malach certainly didn’t need Shedim around. The last thing it needed, in fact, was a plant that asked too many questions that would undoubtedly get Malach into trouble as well. It had gotten along just fine before it had made an acquaintance, with the light and the soil and its own thoughts. It wasn’t even going to think of that troublesome plant anymore.

It was just like Shedim, though, wasn’t it? To make all of this fuss and then just disappear without any way of telling a plant where it was and how it was doing. It probably wasn’t even paying attention to the light in the new room it was enjoying. Just waiting for those shiny points outside of its brand new window and not thinking about Malach at all. Well, that was just fine. It was mutual.

Wouldn’t it just figure that Shedim would get himself into this sort of a mess, Malach continued to fume, branches vibrating despite its earlier fatigue. All those warnings from Gav, all of Malach’s efforts to convince him to be discreet in its explorations and questions, all of it for naught because Shedim couldn’t just stop.

A door slammed somewhere outside of the room. Movement echoed into the room. In the distance, from the direction of the Place of Loud Noises, a whirring, grinding, crushing groan sounded, then stopped.

Footsteps approached the room.

-

That could be any pot. It occurred to Malach, as from a long distance away, that this was the first thought it had thought in a while. The room was pitch black, the last rustles of the plants settling into the darkest part of the Time of No Light long since settled. Malach hadn’t noticed this and barely noted it now at the very fringe on its blooms.

All of the plants had identical pots, they were just different sizes. So it could be any pot, even if it was the right size. An old pot or a spare.

If it was just any old pot, then Shedim was probably somewhere outside the room. Waiting or looking at something different, or thinking up new questions to ask Malach when it got back to the room. Maybe thinking about what Malach had discovered while it was gone. It was really very good about that, about listening. About not leaving when Malach started getting excited about the taste of a particular light or the details of the new soil that He was trying out on them. Shedim was interesting to listen to, as well, always telling Malach about some far off corner of the room or what was outside of the room, though the window.

Malach could be better about listening, too. Sometimes it felt a bit impatient when Shedim had yet another question about why all the plants listened to Gav or why plants had to be in pots. Of course a plant had to have a pot. That was just preposterous. Maybe it wasn’t, though. Malach would ask Shedim about it when the other plant returned and listen to all the reasons why it was a good question and not even for one moment think about how to stretch its branches into the new beam of light unobtrusively. It would listen with every twig of its being and never interrupt at all. Once Shedim was back.

The darkness sank with greater heaviness on the room.

The silence was unbroken.


	7. Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plant prepares itself for the end of its existence in the Beyond and, like most of us, is surprised by what is found there.

In the end, it wasn’t too surprising.

Gav had been warning Malach for days that it’s blooms were dying, that it’s branches looked dusty, and that it’s conditions were rapidly approaching that where leaves might develop that most terrible malady: Spots. Malach supposed that it really should care about this and dimly recalled that there had been a time when the mere idea of Spots would have sent panic racing through its every root. Now, though, it didn’t seem to matter.

Not much seemed to matter. Not the light or the soil or the Spots.

So, really, Malach had only itself to blame when He came down upon it like a bag of rain-soaked, moldy fertilizer.

The shouting and the threateningly swinging spritzer seemed remote, almost like observing dust motes winding down a patch of light or the sights that – someone used to tell it about through the window. Even the sensation of being hoisted into the air and moving at an uncomfortable angle in relationship with the ground was distant.

When the first breeze riffled through its leaves, however, and light undiluted by the window gleamed over its leaves, Malach came to reality in a tumbling hurry, all at once.

Where was it going? Where was He taking it? This couldn’t be the grinding, wrenching Place of Loud Noises. Question after question raced through it at a speed possibly unprecedented in plant kind, which weren’t exactly known for their intellectual capacity, as He stopped a minute in this new, wide place mumbling about some exotic thing called ‘Bloody Traffic Cops.’

Underneath and throughout all of its questions, though, Malach tried hard to ignore the small voice quietly mourning how – someone would have loved this blustering, shining, hurried space.

-

The ride on the slidey, spinney shelf that He had strapped Malach to was an experience that it hoped never to repeat. It probably wouldn’t, Malach reflected somewhat comfortingly. He was going to feed it to whatever lived in the Place of Loud Noises at some point. This must just be a bit of torture beforehand.

Its reflections upon imminent demise versus another trip that left it vaguely nauseous – a difficult achievement when one is a plant and does not possess a stomach – distracted Malach from taking in the details of where He, His unsettlingly loose grip, and Malach itself were heading. A faint ringing sound and air tasting of dust and thickened light brought it around again. It gazed with relative disinterest at strange walls ranging up around it as He entered a building. The walls were incredibly peculiar. They were different colors and bumpy, some parts sticking out further or higher, and there were so many as He swiftly walked them around corners and Malach could see more funny walls jutting out at odd angles.

In spite of himself, Malach almost waved a leaf towards a wall. What would the light gathering in the corners of those walls taste like, and how would the dirt feel - for it could see that the walls were very dusty - it would have so much to tell. Malach’s leaf drooped back on its stem and the walls lost their appeal.

“Got another one for you,” He called out, dragging Malach from its thoughts.

“Really, my dear, so soon?” the voice was oddly familiar. “This is a bookshop, you know, not a specularia.”

“ _Greenhouse._ And ’s point, angel,” He muttered. “They can’t hack it in a ‘ _specularia_.’ Honestly, is that about the new oyster place on High Street?”

What was an ‘angel,’ Malach wondered idly. Perhaps it was the noisy thing in the Place of Loud Noises. Perhaps it took longer to get to the place than the plants in the room had thought. Perhaps it was this strange room with the strange walls and thick dust.

“Ooo, now that you mention it,” the voice drew nearer, “I have been curious. We’re a little early for it, but I think that they’ll have just opened by the time we get there. Oh yes,” the voice resolved into a He-shaped being. It was the Other. Of course, that’s where it had heard that voice before. “We do have to find a spot for your little friend.”

“Not a friend,” He inelegantly shoved Malach at the Other, “a failure. Ungrateful sprout. Waste of room in my,” He paused, “ _specularia_.”

“Do you not want to do oysters,” the Other said in a flat tone, awkwardly taking Malach and holding it at full arm’s length away. “Where am I to put this?” Malach found itself jolting through the air as the Other swept it to one place and almost put it down, then hesitated, and moved off past another strange wall.

“Somewhere with sunlight,” His voice called after them, as Malach’s pot hovered above another spot. “You put it there, you’ll knock it over inside a week.”

The Other huffed, “Oh really.” Malach felt its pot almost rest on solid ground at last. “Oh blast, you’re probably right.” It was whisked into the air once more. “Where did I put the last one?”

“Over in the back,” His voice seemed very far away. “’N oysters are fine.”

“You seem oddly fixated on the Romans today, is all,” the Other called back as Malach found itself hauled through a doorway into another, smaller room. It was enough to make a plant dizzy in the root system. “Here we go.” Malach expelled oxygen forcefully as its pot thudded onto a shelf.

“ _I’m_ fixated?” His voice turned loud again as He appeared in the doorway. “You’re the one that brought it up. No one, at all, has used ‘ _specularia’_ in centuries, Aziraphale. No one.”

“It was such a clever invention,” the Other remarked, as they both moved back into the other room, “cucumbers all year round. Though, admittedly, they didn’t taste quite the same.”

“Malach?”

All of the air seemed to disappear from Malach’s leaves in a blink.

-

“He got rid of you, of all plants? You always looked perfect. Wait, what happened to you?”

Malach didn’t dare turn to face the speaker, even when it felt a touch to its leaves.

“You’re _brown_. How did this happen? You don’t even have a bloom. Malach?”

Slowly, Malach turned at the distressed inquiry. Its branches fluttered in aimlessly pinwheels for a moment.

“Shedim?” it whispered.

“Yeah,” the tip of the vine cocked to the side. “Surprise, this is where the failures go. It’s not so bad, the Other doesn’t much care what we do. And I haven’t figured out how yet, but we’re always watered and fed, even though the Other never does anything or remembers to let in the light. Occasionally, the ol’ roots start feeling a little parched, but it doesn’t last for long. Ba’al over there couldn’t shake off that fungus and I thought the Other was going to wilt on the spot, I truly did. Kept talking about a ‘Crowley.’ Then there was this, flash? And it was perfectly fine. A little odd, talks really high-pitched now, but fine.”

“It was a little odd to begin with,” Malach finally managed. “You’re alive,” it added nonsensically.

“Doing better than you, that’s for certain,” Shedim poked at its branches again. “What happened?”

“Oh,” Malach was a little embarrassed now to admit that it’d given up once it thought Shedim was dead, considering that had turned out to be precisely opposite of the case. “Wait,” it hissed, “He brought me here, but where did He go?”

“Oh, He’s around, but once you’ve failed He doesn’t seem to care much what you do. He seems almost - happy? I snuck a tendril round the corner where they set themselves and He looks as limp as the hanging plants sometimes.”

“Really?” Malach could hardly fathom it. “But to sneak in like that,” it recalled, “that’s so dangerous.”

“Not really,” Shedim’s length bobbled. “He caught me one time. _Don’t_ look like that, bloomy, you look about ready to uproot. He actually,” Shedim’s voice lowered, “brushed my leaves.”

“What? No, really?” Malach’s leaves vibrated in shock.

“Truth. I mean,” the end of the vine traced circles in the light dirt covering the shelf, “He did then tell me to keep my vine where it belonged if I wanted to keep it. But I don’t think He was serious.”

“Let’s not find out, shall we,” Malach fluffed a branch at him. “I just got you back,” it trailed off. “Shedim, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, uh,” the other plant moved as though it wanted to slither down the side of the wall. “It’s whatever, it’s fine.”

“No,” Malach said, “it’s not. I didn’t mean any of those things I said. You aren’t any of those things. You’re not just ‘some plant,’ Shedim. You’re, you’re,” its vocabulary groped blindly for a word, then gave up with a shrug. “I don’t know what you are, but you’re important. To me.” Malach rustled nervously.

“You’re important to me, too, Malach,” Shedim mumbled into the shelf, where its vine lay flat to the woodwork.

“No, really,” all of the things that Malach had wanted to say tumbled around together now that it had a chance it never expected to actually say them. “I was so scared He’d take you, so I just wanted you to be safe. But then He took you anyway, and nothing mattered, and Gav yelled a lot, and now you’re here. And there was a big, big place outside the room that you would really like. And I want to hear all about the not living in a pot, and I won’t ask how the light here tastes once.”

“I want you to ask,” Shedim popped up from the shelf. “I’ve been trying to keep notes on it, for you. And I found where I can prop open the covers to the outside, so we can taste the light and see the bright spots. You know, just in case you ever came here.” It flopped uncertainly a little, coming to rest against the rim of Malach’s pot.

Malach felt the familiar weight and touch, let it carry on through the quiet for just a moment.

“What did you find? I want to hear all about it.”

-

Sometime after the Beginning, very near what might be the End if one paid any attention to prophecies or the news stations, there were two plants. They sat on a warm shelf, imagining an After of light, and air, and bright spots outside this new room, slouching hopefully one around the other as the light waned through the day.

And forever.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[embroidery] Plant Omens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22465867) by [TheHandmadeTale (BabelGhoti)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabelGhoti/pseuds/TheHandmadeTale)




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